Dai Chengfeng looked into Bibi Dong's violet eyes, swirling with fury. He knew any verbal explanation would sound hollow before the wrath of the Supreme Pontiff.
He steeled his heart. Instead of arguing, he seized the moment—when she'd just removed her disguise, her guard slightly lowered—and acted.
His arms wrapped around her slender yet powerful waist. He dipped his head and kissed her.
"Mmph—!"
Bibi Dong gasped, caught off guard, her protest muffled against his lips.
Furious, she instinctively summoned soul power to throw him off.
But Dai Chengfeng held her tight. A gentle suck on her lower lip shattered her focus, snuffing out her rising power.
"Dai… mmph… let go!"
She twisted away, voice trembling with suppressed rage—and a hint of breathlessness. "Don't think you can distract me with this!"
"I'm asking you—what's really going on between you and Liu Erlong?!"
Dai Chengfeng ignored her. One hand stayed locked on her waist; the other cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her flushed skin. He claimed her lips again, swallowing her accusations whole.
This kiss was deeper, more insistent.
Bibi Dong's breath hitched. Against her will, a traitorous shiver of pleasure rippled through her.
As Supreme Pontiff, her authority was absolute—how dare he treat her so brazenly?
Her mind screamed to push him away, to demand answers. But her body, under Dai Chengfeng's familiar, domineering assault, began to soften.
She cursed herself for weakness—even as her thoughts scattered under his touch.
"What could there be?"
Dai Chengfeng finally pulled back slightly. "Dong'er, you're overthinking."
"We're just old acquaintances. We happened to meet."
"Happened to meet?"
Bibi Dong scoffed, disbelief sharp in her voice. "If it's just coincidence, why did she press you so hard—with clear provocation?"
"If it's just coincidence, why couldn't you give a straight answer?"
"Dai Chengfeng, do you take me for a child?"
"If I'd told the truth then," he sighed, "you two would've torn that pavilion apart."
Seizing her momentary pause, he leaned in again.
This kiss was softer, soothing. He lingered on her lips, then traced her jawline to her earlobe, nibbling the soft flesh. His whisper curled hot against her skin:
"Dong'er, my heart holds only you. What others do… means nothing to me."
"Don't let strangers anger you. If you harm yourself, who'll ache but me?"
His warm breath sent shivers down her spine. The possessiveness in his words melted her fury, replacing it with something complex, unnameable.
Yet Liu Erlong's challenging gaze—and Dai Chengfeng's trapped expression—still stung.
"Sweet talker…"
She turned her head, avoiding his advance. Her tone was cool, but the earlier heat had faded. "You think you can smooth this over so easily?"
"I wouldn't dare deceive Your Holiness."
Seeing her relent, Dai Chengfeng's heart leapt. His hands didn't stop. With a sudden lift, he swept her into his arms and strode toward the lavish bed.
"Put me down!"
Bibi Dong yelped, instinctively clinging to his neck. Humiliation and anger flushed her cheeks crimson.
In the Supreme Pontiff's Palace, she was absolute authority—never treated so insolently!
Dai Chengfeng ignored her. At the bed, he laid her gently on silk sheets, then covered her with his body, trapping her beneath him. His burning gaze pinned her furious violet eyes.
"Dai Chengfeng! Don't push your luck!"
She pushed at his chest—but her strength was laughable against him.
"Pushing my luck?"
He chuckled, kissing her again—this time without hesitation. His hands roamed, deftly undoing the intricate ties of her papal robe.
Bibi Dong resisted at first. But her body betrayed her. They'd shared countless intimacies; muscle memory drowned reason.
Her hands, once shoving, now clutched weakly at his chest. Her angry resistance melted into desperate compliance.
"Mm…"
Dai Chengfeng, sensing her surrender, bared her smooth skin. His kisses trailed down her neck, leaving marks on her collarbone.
Time blurred—perhaps an hour, perhaps longer.
When stillness finally returned, only their slowing breaths filled the chamber.
Bibi Dong lay drenched in sweat, limp amid tangled sheets. Her meticulously styled hair clung damp to her temples, highlighting skin like snow, her face radiating languid satisfaction.
She panted softly, too spent to lift a finger.
Dai Chengfeng propped himself on an elbow, savoring the rare sight. Stripped of papal severity, she was breathtaking—a vision that stole his breath.
After a long while, Bibi Dong gathered enough strength to open her hazy eyes. She shot him a glare—more coquettish than angry, her gaze dripping with reluctant allure.
"You scoundrel…"
Her voice was rough with aftermath, lazy with exhaustion. "Only know how to use such low tricks…"
Dai Chengfeng smiled, tucking her damp hair behind her ear. His thumb brushed her heated cheek, voice thick with contentment and coaxing:
"Low tricks, but effective. Dong'er… are you still angry?"
She glared again—but the ice in her eyes had vanished.
After a pause, she huffed petulantly. "Fine. I won't bother with whatever games you and Liu Erlong play…"
Dai Chengfeng's heart soared—until her tone shifted. Though soft, her voice carried the Supreme Pontiff's unyielding authority:
"But listen well, Dai Chengfeng."
She propped herself up, violet eyes locking onto his. Each word was a command.
"Next time… don't let her cross my path again."
Having spoken, she collapsed back onto the bed, eyes closed, turning her profile to him—exhausted, yet utterly resolute.
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